


Empty

by Serane



Category: Fever Series - Karen Marie Moning
Genre: Barrons has such a potty mouth, BarronsPOV, F/M, Language, and he is pissed, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 14:57:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5131790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serane/pseuds/Serane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scenes from Dreamfever - Spoilers for the Alpha Alternative/ Burned retcon! What happened after Barrons found Mac at the abbey? Strong M for language, violence, adult themes. Basically for anything in the Fever series. You are warned. Barrons' POV & potty mouth. And boy is he pissed...  x-posted on fanfiction.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Hunt. Fuck. Erase. Mark. Kill._

My head is filled with a cacophony of impulses.

The beast roars and rattles its cage. The man is quiet, glacier in his seething. It's been centuries, no millennia, since there was a conflict between man and beast. I don't do inner conflicts. I am at peace with both.

Yet there is Mac, on the floor, writhing in ecstasy or agony or both. My senses are assaulted by her. The dirty hair, the filth of the cell, the dried cum on her naked skin, the soft wimmering moans. I know those sounds intimately and yet I am repelled.

They didn't even clean her up.

I sense the others approaching and quickly shrug out of my army jacket to shield her from hungry gazes. Getting her into the jacket is a struggle. I can't tell if she is hurt, but she fights the cloth on her bare skin like a wild animal. Her eyes are empty and only fall shut when I voice her into sleep. It takes me three tries until she even responds to the command.

The beast claws at my insides.

Ryodan arrives as the first, the others following. I sense the words on his lips and send him one look over my shoulder. _No. Questions. Now._

I get quiet, soft-spoken, when I'm angry. I am beyond words now.

He nods minutely, understanding that stems from ages together. Him and Kasteo fall in formation before me. A wall shielding me and the now sleeping woman buddled up in my jacket.

In the car, she wakes up and starts squirming in my lap.

I am hard. I am always hard around her. I have been hard since I entered her cell.

The beast wants to erase the stench of the princes and replace it with its own.

The man struggles to keep her hands at bay without hurting her.

I never struggle.

I voice her. She resists. I voice her harder. Ryodan mutters a soft _fuck_ from the driver seat. His eyes never graze the rearview mirror though. They are fixed on the road.

She's rubbing against me, trying to get off, leaving a moist patch on my crotch of my pants.

FUCK indeed.

The beast commands. The man curses.

Before I can decide what to do with her, she shudders and moans. Ryodan and Kasteo sit utterly still in the front seats. You could hear a pin drop. The only audible breath in the car is hers.

The beasts roars. I leash it tightly.

When we arrive at one of my safe houses, Ryodan and Kasteo flank the car door without a word, facing away when I carry my cargo into the building. She hangs onto me like a monkey, crusty dried cum on her thighs flaking all over my pants. I will burn them.

Inside, Ryodans eyes meet mine in question. _What do you need?_ I cover the woman as much as possible in my jacket, but her naked limbs are fighting my every effort.

I shoot him one warning look in answer. _Back. The. Fuck. Off._

Silently, they leave then, without nodding this time. We are alone at last.


	2. Chapter 2

She screams when I drag her under the shower. The water might be a little hot, but it's not the temperature that's agony for her, it's the sensory overload of the droplets against her skin. A thousand litte touches. Too little. Too much.

I voice her into submission, but my hold is over her sliding off like the soap over her skin. I undress quickly, stepping under the spray as well. A lesser man would have lied to himself that it's only practical when attempting to wash a banshee. But I'm no lesser man. I don't delude myself. Ever.

The beast wants skin to skin contact, craves it desperately ever since we fucked like the wild animals we are. The man concurs in this. Finally.

I press my body up against hers and soap her while she melts against me. She still smells like the princes, that stench assaulting my senses even though I'm scrubbing her down thouroughly. I aim at precise, strictly cleaning motions but she's moaning and rubbing and wiggling and then my face is in her hair and my hand is slowing rubbing her clit. Once... twice... and she comes, moaning thoatily while pushing her lush, naked ass against my dick.

Fuck.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

A curse. A command. A need.

She slums against me, briefly satisfied and I quickly finish her washing her, while my dick remains rockhard. Then voice her to sleep with a command that is thundering from the tiled walls.

While she is passed out, I walk the perimeter of the house, making sure that the wards are secure, meticulous and enforced. Then I check what is stocked and make a mental list of what is needed.

Food. Ink. Weapons. Clothes.

I look at her sleeping form, sprawling on the makeshift bedding, her skin rosy from the rough washing.

Fuck clothes. She should sleep in silk sheets.

I punch in some commands to Ryodan on my cell, more claws than fingers now.

The beast prowls its cage restlessly, itching to get out.

_Kill every single one of them. Rampage. Rip. Destroy._

I close my eyes, willing the slipcover of a man back to the surface. Now is not the time to change, even though I really fucking want to. Mac could wake up. Millennia of self control turn my skin back to gold. Later.

I look at the woman on the cot.

_Fuck._

It's been months since I fucked her. Months since I fucked anybody. I was tightly focused on tracking the bloody fucking book, as close to my goal as never before. The key to fucking everything lies there unconsciously, dusty nipples slowly rising and falling to the rhythm of her breathing. Images of her massaging her own glorious tits while she's rocking on my dick flash through my mind. I watch her watching me with heavy lidded eyes. The hungry animal look on her face studying me when I finally let her play on top. Trying to decypher me. To peek behind the facade. Lying back with my arms crossed behind my head was the only concession I was willing to make. Noone peeks behind the facade.

Bloody fucking hell.

Now her eyes are empty, flat with unawareness. Gone is the spark, the constant indignation, her highly entertaining frustration with my evasiveness. Now, she is all hunger and need and frenzy and nothing else.

And as if my thoughts of our night together stirred something inside her, as if our minds were linked in some bloody fucking manner, she starts squirming restlessly in the cot, on the brink of leaving her short slumber.

She's waking up again. Fuck.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't delude myself. Ever.

I want to fuck her again, wanted to ever since the night we fucked in her tiny little room at the inn. She's just a girl, I told myself. With great tits. And a motherfucking fine ass. Surprised about my urge to fuck her senseless. Not conflicted.

She wants to fuck me. She has wanted to fuck me again, too, ever since that bloody damned night. Her body craves it, but her mind was too eager to accept my slight nudge to forget. She's so conflicted that she shoved the whole night into the farthest corners of her mind. As if it never fucking happened.

And so I waited. Patience honed to perfection over the ages. Never betraying my hunger, never letting her realize what a tightrope she was balancing on. But oh did she want to fuck again, even if she didn't admit it to herself. It's been a game on the brink of distraction.

And now my face is buried deep in her cunt, my tongue getting her off again and again in an attempt to wear her down and get her back to sleep. My dick is hard and leaking. Neglected.

She tried to undress me but I didn't let her. She's unsatiable but unlike the night in the inn when she took out her grief and frustrations on my body, all fire and heat and passion I didn't expect her to possess. Now she's in a frantic, desperate hunger, devoid of all emotions except for need. When she finally passes out on her own, I quickly get up and lock her in.

Ryodan has been waiting outside for a little over one hour now.

When I open the door, he looks pissed as hell and his nostrils flare, taking in her scent on my face. Before he can so much as smirk, I grab the set of inks from him and punch him so hard and fast he is skidding over the floor. My glare is message enough. _No patience left_ , it warns.

He wipes the blood of his smashed nose and spits onto the pavement, getting up slowly. Not the time to pointlessly challenge me. Countless wars formed an unbreakable bond over the ages, created understanding far beyond human conception. Silver eyes study me, taking in my frustration and fury. He keeps his distance, the smirk long gone from his eyes, replaced by something else. He likes to push, to hold the reigns. I let him. While politics bore me, he revels in them, enjoys keeping the nuts and bolts running. Power is his poison. Still, I am the fucking alpha, a point I very rarely need to make. He knows this, and he knows what's at stake here. Everyone of us knows. Everyone of us wants the same for my son.

_„She is bad, huh."_

It doesn't sound like a question, but it is. I'm bloody fucking pissed. At him, at even asking, at everything and everyone. Through too long teeth I growl my commands.

„ _Research. All you can find about priya. Get me answers. Anything."_

His eyes turn hard with unquestioning obedience and the promise of a hunt.

_We will rip them to pieces brother, we will drain their hearts and suck the marrow from their fucking fairy bones._

The beast is hungry. His is, too.

_Later_ , my eyes say. _First I need to fix this._

Then Mac wakes up and we can hear the rustling of the sheets.

_Later_ , his gaze says and then he's gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...oh well, this is where we get more explicit. It IS Barrons' POV after all and he does love to make the reader a little uncomfortable, doesn't he? ;)

When I work my dick ever so slowly into her, my eyes fall shut on their own.

Fuck. She's as tight and hot and wet and everything as I remember from our one epic night together. That night I had her pinned down under me, only partly undressed, ass pressed hard against me while I restricted her wiggling or else I would have lost it way too fast. It took us three rounds to get completely naked, and by the time we made it to her sorry excuse of a bed, her voice was raw and husky from egging me on. Each time we fucked, another layer of that Barbie persona was peeled back, and what I discovered underneath made me stay much longer than originally planned. Underneath that prim and proper facade prowled an animal. Stripped off all conventions, she allowed herself to take out her grief and anger on my body, allowed herself to gloriously rage and get lost in a good hard fuck. In the end, I let her on top. She earned it.

I shove that memory form my mind, focusing on the the present. She's wimpering softly, keen on getting as much of me inside her as quickly as possible, even though she's clearly on the edge between pain and lust. I barely fit. She sweats.

The beast responds to her sounds, her scent, the way her tits rise and fall with her quick breaths. She is baiting me, to just pound into her, to narrow the world on precisely this moment and loose myself in her.

Fuck. I'm so fucked.

I owed it to her to search for other options. Anything other than this. She won't cooperate otherwise, if I can get her back to her senses. Although I doubt that she'll cooperate at all after this. My dear Ms. Lane... How did all the fluff and pink and rightous indignation prepare her for torn pride and cutting pain?

Damned if I do. Damned if I don't. A bitter laugh escapes my chest and the tiny movement makes Mac shudder around me.

Daku searched our extensive archives for any trace in history that we might have overlooked, any hint that women can come back from this. Fucking nothing. I'm on my bloody fucking own in this.

Nothing works. She is pain. She is need. She is hunger. She doesn't sleep, she doesn't eat. She's wasting away, purple blothes underneath her eyes, collarbones jutting out. Voice has been wearing off too quickly now, and inks start to lose their impact, too. And fuck chanting. I could chain her up, but what would be the point? This is the last resort. She's so eager for my dick, not for me, and isn't that the irony? For months, she tried to make sense about me, snooping around, an endless deluge of useless questions with an ever rising level of frustration about my lack of answers. But did she fuck me? No. Instead she pranced around with that fairy fuck, rubbing it in my face, treating me like as if I'm not even registering male to her. But now, underneath me, she is lasersharp focused on my dick, and what it does to her and fuck anything else and fuck the man attached.

There is nothing in her eyes when I fuck her. Nothing when she comes. I know what gets her off, I know what she likes. Liked.

Now the barest touch of my skin against hers makes her shiver. A brush against her nipples makes her howl and come violently. Her unnatural need makes ever cell of her body hyperaware, hyperhungry for always more.

This is not her.

It's nearly no fun to fuck like this. Nearly... but I don't delude myself.

Her inhuman hunger rubs off onto me. We fuck and fuck and fuck till the room smells of her and me and sweat and sex.

She is wild, I am feral... possessive.

She demands and I mark, erasing the stench, replacing the marks on her skin with my own.

After some time she opens her vacant eyes to look at me, but I turn her around and fuck her from behind. A slight tremor in her muscles indicates that she tires at last, all the while still unnaturally demanding, always more, more, more, exhausted past her limits.

So I come deep within her, hard, finally, after months of waiting on this, yet when I pull out, all I feel is empty. She lays shuddering next to me, her flesh tender from hours of rough fucking, but in a moment, she is on me again, licking, sucking, biting, clawing. I grab her wrists and force her to look at me.

_„Mac."_

She turns away, only focused on my body and what it can do to her, but I grab her more tightly and make her meet my eyes.

_„Mac."_ I repeat, and hold her still while the word sinks in. She grows frantic and starts to trash against my hold, not a trace of recognition on her face. I roll over and trap her body beneath mine. I am hard, and ready at her entrance. She opens her legs wide, relief and need on her beautiful face, her mouth open, silently begging, but I refuse to move an inch.

_„Mac..."_

My voice softens in an involuntary plea, and I nearly choke on her name. I don't do choking. Bloody fucking hell.

She looks at me then, her gaze searching my eyes, empty, but at least searching.

_„...M..Mac...?"_

She repeats after me, those lush pink lips testing the sound, her brows wrinkling as if to decypher what that means, why I am waiting, torturing her.

Hope sparks white hot within me, and with that, I plunge into her again.

The woman beneath me trashes wildly and howls, an inhuman sound. Primal. Animal.

The beast answers her call.

The man is patient. For now.


End file.
